A tree. Two ropes. A wooden board. A swing.
A breeze begins to blow through the branches of
the tree and the grass surrounding it rolls like a sea.
A little girl dressed in ribbons, curls, and layers of
petticoats races across the lawn on a sunny day.
She pulls herself backward onto the seat of the
swing, gripping the ropes of the swing in either hand
she pushes her feet off of the ground and sets off into motion.
She bumps her legs, back and forth as she goes higher,
as though she is destine to reach the sky itself.
The ribbons in her hair tangling, spiraling, and twirling
as the wind catches them in a childish dance. Her
layers of skirt and petticoats coast in the wind as well.
She is high enough now she can almost touch the sky,
or at least it feels that way to her. She swings ever
higher, stretching her bare toes to the sky,
but she will not touch the sky today.
It is really only a dream anyway.
She slowly ascends to the ground, and when she is
half way there, she thrusts her body off of the swing
out into the air, and for a moment, she can fly.
Her feet touch the ground first and then the
layers of her petticoats slowly fall after,
laying down around her, nearly touching the ground.
A bell rings, and she races toward it’s call,
knowing time is of the essence. Her legs pumping
quickly admits the folds of her skirts gathering
themselves around them, so she picks up the layers
into one hand and races faster. Her toes dig into
the grass beneath her feet, and her hair blows out
behind her, twisting carelessly in the breeze.
Suddenly she stops, and looking back over her
shoulder she sees her faithful tree is there, bending
and swaying in the wind. Yet it stands strong, and solid
to the core. She knows it will be there when she
returns, to seek the peace and solitude she can only
find beneath the branches of that faithful tree and
in the comfort of its old wooden swing.
Then she turns again and continues on her way.
Denae A. Freed ~
A breeze begins to blow through the branches of
the tree and the grass surrounding it rolls like a sea.
A little girl dressed in ribbons, curls, and layers of
petticoats races across the lawn on a sunny day.
She pulls herself backward onto the seat of the
swing, gripping the ropes of the swing in either hand
she pushes her feet off of the ground and sets off into motion.
She bumps her legs, back and forth as she goes higher,
as though she is destine to reach the sky itself.
The ribbons in her hair tangling, spiraling, and twirling
as the wind catches them in a childish dance. Her
layers of skirt and petticoats coast in the wind as well.
She is high enough now she can almost touch the sky,
or at least it feels that way to her. She swings ever
higher, stretching her bare toes to the sky,
but she will not touch the sky today.
It is really only a dream anyway.
She slowly ascends to the ground, and when she is
half way there, she thrusts her body off of the swing
out into the air, and for a moment, she can fly.
Her feet touch the ground first and then the
layers of her petticoats slowly fall after,
laying down around her, nearly touching the ground.
A bell rings, and she races toward it’s call,
knowing time is of the essence. Her legs pumping
quickly admits the folds of her skirts gathering
themselves around them, so she picks up the layers
into one hand and races faster. Her toes dig into
the grass beneath her feet, and her hair blows out
behind her, twisting carelessly in the breeze.
Suddenly she stops, and looking back over her
shoulder she sees her faithful tree is there, bending
and swaying in the wind. Yet it stands strong, and solid
to the core. She knows it will be there when she
returns, to seek the peace and solitude she can only
find beneath the branches of that faithful tree and
in the comfort of its old wooden swing.
Then she turns again and continues on her way.
Denae A. Freed ~
(I appreciate my neice dressing up on such a warm July day,
in all her aunties' skirts, and doing a photo shoot with me.
She looks like such a doll!)
